Time Heals All Wounds
by NCCJFAN
Summary: What does it take to make Woody and Jordan face up to their feelings and deal with their issues? Not a typical date...or even a typical romance...with two people this stubborn, it takes a lot more. WARNING: A little steamier than my usual stuff.
1. Why?

**Disclaimer: In order to appreciate this story, you got to forget that "You've Really Got Me" ever took place…that Woody ever told Jordan she needed someone to hold her a little tighter, that she wanted him to kiss her again, or that she told him she would be waiting for him back in Boston. Just let it go. Sort of like when you watch the movie The Cat in the Hat, you have to forget the Dr. Seuss book in order to appreciate the video venue. Same here. **

**However, on a side note, I am incredibly happy that Woody and Jordan are moving their relationship along on the show. Would I be happier if it was a little faster? Nah…not given Jordan's tendency to run. Would I have been happy if they kissed in "You Really Got Me?" Heck, yeah.**

**Oh, and by the way, I don't own anything to do with Crossing Jordan. Nada, nothing, zip, zilch. They belong to Tim Kring and Tailwind Productions. Would I like to own them? No. Way too much responsibility. However, I would just like to be left in charge for one day….just one day. **

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He remembered everything when he saw her…how her creamy skin tasted…how sweet her lips were…how it felt when their tongues danced and then their bodies joined. He remembered.

Every time he saw her.

It was burned in the visual memory of his brain. Including how she pushed him away afterwards. Whether it was her fear of intimacy on any level…or whether it simply was just _him_, he wasn't sure. They had not talked much since that night. And when they did, the conversation was strictly on a professional level – nothing personal. He believed she was as afraid as he was to broach the subject.

Was he afraid? Yes. What if he had no control over her reaction? What if, indeed, it was all _him_? That she decided that a farm boy from Wisconsin wasn't what she wanted. Or worse, what if it was someone else? But he was more than afraid.

He was angry. Furious. Seething. She had led him on…invited herself into his apartment, and then left…no, ran….in the middle of the act. Giving him no excuse. His anger was barely contained around her. And she knew this. She would take one look at his eyes and lower hers…not looking him in the eyes. Answering his questions in hushed, professional tones.

Woody sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Whatever they had….it was probably over. He wasn't sure what had happened with her or to her, but whatever they had with them…it was gone. He was tired of trying, tired of trying to win her, tired of this strange mating/dating dance that had gone on too long. It was time for him to move on. Not from Boston, but definitely from her.

* * *

She shivered when she saw him.

Not because she was cold…although their relationship was definitely frosty now…but because of the look in his eyes…anger…aloofness…but mainly questions.

Questions she wasn't sure how to answer. Or what to say.

She had been tired…so tired of shifting through her emotions….trying to decide what it was she felt about him…if she felt about him…fighting the feeling she knew was growing inside of her…that she gave in. He had invited her up to his apartment to work on a case together. Nothing unusual. She had accepted. But somewhere between the third and fourth beer, he had leaned over and kissed her. "You need someone like me in your life, Cavanaugh," he had said.

And she had responded. By the time he had gotten her to the bedroom, she only had on her bra and panties. He had pulled them off of her and kissed her…all over, before returning his lips to hers one more time. He had softly whispered to her…made sure she was ready…and then she freaked out.

He had whispered words of love and affection…devotion, even. And the only thought that ran through her mind was that she didn't deserve this man. Not the way he had planned. For this was going to be more than sex for Woody. It was making love.

Something she had never really done with a man.

Sex, yes. Making love. Never.

And it scared her to death. Woody was a good man….kind, considerate…loving. The kind of man your mother wants you to bring home because she knows that no matter what, this man is going to treat you right.

And with all that Jordan had surmised she had done wrong in her life, she didn't feel like she deserved this…not with Woody.

Sex, yes.

Love, no.

She had pushed him away, and gathered her clothes, putting them on as she fled his apartment.

She had pushed him away from her body that night. But she also knew she had pushed her way out of his heart. He had hardly spoken to her since.

But his looks nearly seared her soul. He had questions and she knew he wanted answers. Deserved answers. She just got tongue-tied around him when she tried to answer them.

She reasoned with herself that it was for the best…that he could do so much better than her…should have someone better than her.

At best, she was broken goods….at worst, she had too many issues to function.

But when the lights were out, and she was lying in bed at night, she could still feel the touch of his hands, the caresses of his lips, and his soft words in her ear. Her heart ached that she would never hear them again.

It ached again when she wondered who would be the lucky girl that would. It would break if she ever found out.

So she tried to keep her emotions, as well as his, at bay. Answering his questions about cases in a low, calm voice. And was incredibly thankful that any questions about what happened between them never came up. Yet. She was sure they would, given the right circumstances and the right time.

He did, too.

It never occurred to either one of them it would take a terrorist attack to make that happen.


	2. Ready, Set, Run

**Chapter Two**

It was time to move on. He knew it. He felt it all the way down to his soul. It was time to figuratively kiss Jordan Marie Cavanaugh good-bye and go on with his life – despite his feelings for her; it was time to make his life without her.

Of course this was easier said than done. He saw her nearly everyday. At work. After work, at the Pogue. Seeing her made him remember…and remembering made him angry. Angry at her. At her issues. At a past she had no control over, but was still reaping the bitter harvest from.

But she did have control over her reactions to this past, and that's what angered Woody the most. He did move on with his life, dating a string of lovely women in Boston who had relatively no issues to deal with. Women who were as intelligent, steady, and strong as they were beautiful.

And were totally boring to him, when compared to a certain medical examiner. He had sighed and stopped seeing them, stifling his need for companionship, female company….raising the bar on his sexual frustrations.

And lowering his level of tolerance for Jordan. While he was dating other women, she hadn't been sitting home playing the emotionally-starved nun. She was seeing other men, too – but none that her father would have approved of. While not the dregs of society, they certainly were below caliber in the way they would treat Max's daughter. While they may have been impressed with her knowledge, maybe overwhelmed at her medical degree, and possibly even awed with the way she worked with the police, they really only wanted one thing from Jordan – time in her bed.

Woody couldn't help but notice, especially when she would parade these men in front of him at the Pogue, with a casual, "Hey, Wood….how's it going? This is -" and she'd fill in the blank. He'd shake the man's hand and move on to talk to Garret, Nigel, or even Max, finally discreetly removing himself from the bar, to go back to his lonely apartment, angrier than he was before.

The anger would bring on sleepless nights where he'd lay awake wondering….about Jordan and her choice of men. He didn't understand her. He was attracted to her…cared for her; even now….but didn't understand what she was doing. Maybe these men were the kind of men she wanted to have a relationship with…sort of shallow, commitment-phobes themselves, who were only interested in the physical side of a relationship.

And that hurt. Not that he hadn't wanted to make love with her…God knows he did…still did, if the truth was to be told, but he wanted to be so much more to her…the one that was there when she was sick, the one to hold her during the thunderstorms she was so frightened of, the one that took care of her. Protected her…against the bad guys and against herself. The one that was by her side when she gave birth. The one that she grew old with. That's what he wanted….he wanted it all.

But he obviously wasn't her type. She had shoved him away and went after an entirely different type of man. A type of man he didn't think he could be, no matter how hard he tried. And despite how much he made an effort, he couldn't get the vision of Jordan with these men out of his head. On those sleepless nights, the picture of Jordan with one of these men…her arms around him, the man caressing her and making her his, would taunt Woody's mind to the point where he would have to get up and ride by her apartment, just to see if he could tell if she was alone.

Woody wasn't the only one alarmed at the change in Jordan's behavior. Nigel and Garret had noticed, too. "It's happening again," Nigel said to the other two men, one night when they were at the Pogue.

"What?" Woody asked, hesitating before raising a beer to his lips.

"She's scared of something," Garret responded.

"Scared?" Woody asked.

Nigel solemnly nodded. "Yeah, mate. Whenever Jordan gets scared of something…a job, staying in one place too long, a person…she starts this downward spiral of self-destructive behavior…"

"And that's what she's doing now?" Woody again inquired.

"Yes. That's what she's doing now….with these men and drinking too much…that's what happening. She'll keep this up for a while, and then…" Nigel replied.

"Then what?" Woody asked softly.

Garret swallowed half his beer. "She'll figure that she's messed up enough that it justifies her next action."

"And what will that be?" Woody asked, not really wanting the answer, but needing it just the same.

"She'll run," Garret answered.

* * *

He had experienced her running once before. All the way to LA. He had followed her out there, shot a man for her, and then brought her back home. He had hoped then that his actions would have been enough to prove himself to her and she'd agree to be his. No such luck. She had danced out of his reach again.

Now he vowed to himself she wouldn't run again. Not until he had some answers. Not until he knew if everything between them was truly over. Not until he knew there was no chance in hell that she'd love him.

Short of arresting her and throwing her in the Boston jail on a trumped-up charge, he knew there was only one way to stop her - confront her. Tell her that he knew everything. But where….and when? That was the decision he would have to make. And it would have to be a damn near perfect decision. Anything short of it would guarantee her running away and God knows when or if he would see her again. He couldn't bear that thought. So he reviewed his options. His place? No. She'd probably never come back there. Her place? Probably not. He'd never be asked over again and even if he just showed up at her door, he doubted he'd get invited in. The Pogue? Maybe. If he could get her there alone.

In the end, the decision would be made for him…in her office, long after everyone else had left the morgue, hours after the doors had been locked.


	3. I Need Closure

**Chapter Three**

**WARNING: Steamier than my usual stuff. If you think you may be offended, wait for the next chapter.**

Jordan knew he was confused and to be honest she was trying to confuse him. He had no idea the thoughts that were running through her head….that she, of all people, didn't deserve him…his professed affections and love. Not her. Not after all she had done to the people she loved, including him. To think, that after all she had put him through in their pasts, that he still loved her, actually took her breathe away. It also startled her back to reality. He did deserve so much better. He could do so much better…despite the fact she loved him with her whole heart.

So she did go out with other guys…men she knew he wouldn't approve of, just to see if she could turn him off, turn him around, and get her out of his life. So she'd flirt, openly with these men, in front of him, and watch his reaction.

It nearly broke her heart when she saw a measure of distaste and disappointment flicker across his features. He was now thinking she was something she really wasn't, because she'd leave these men high and dry the minute the night was over. They were never invited up to her apartment. They never felt the warmth of her embrace or the sweetness of her kiss.

Jordan knew that Woody still had questions…every time he'd look at her, she knew…that one day, when the right opportunity arose, he'd ask.

And it happened…with the changing of the shifts at the police precinct and her pulling a weekend double at the morgue. Woody had to finish up the details on a homicide. He found himself walking back over to the morgue, to talk with the ME on duty. He pulled himself up short when he discovered it was Jordan's name written on the board as the weekend ME. The morgue was dark, the doors locked, and it was the early, early hours of the morning. Not even the security guards would bother them. After he finished up the detail of the homicide, he'd finish up the details of their relationship.

As soon as he found her, that is. She wasn't in autopsy, or the crypt, or trace. He walked to her office door and found the report he needed fastened to her door. He found the woman he needed inside, asleep on the couch. The opportunity was there…and the timing was perfect. Just roused from sleep, a barely awake Jordan would be easy to corner. He quietly let himself in her office, shut and locked the door behind him, pulled the blinds on her window, and walked over to her sleeping figure.

He had listened to the fairy stories his mother had told him as a child. He had always favored the ones about knights rescuing the fair maidens…picturing in his mind that somehow he was a knight…and would one day find the woman of his dreams and save her. When he was young, he always pictured it would be from a bully…or an overbearing parent. He never in his wildest dreams imagined it would be rescuing his lady from herself. Jordan looked so much like Snow White laying there on the couch, his dreams of fairy tales and knights were pushed forefront to his mind. But Snow White had only needed a kiss to waken her. Jordan needed so much more to wake up and face the truth. And now was the perfect opportunity.

"Jordan," he whispered, sitting on the couch and gently shaking her. "Jordan, wake up."

She mumbled something and made to roll over. He wouldn't allow it. "Jordan. I need to talk to you."

"The report's on the door, Woody." _Woody, _she thought. _Oh, my God. It's Woody._ She tried to turn over the other way. He wasn't letting her do that either.

"This is not about the report, Cavanaugh. It's about us. Wake up."

Tentatively, she opened her eyes, to find herself gazing up into a pair of blue ones….but this time, they weren't the color of the ocean after a storm. They had a tinge of coldness about them…like anger had set in with a permanent residence.

"That's better. So I think you owe me an explanation, don't you?"

She feigned ignorance. "But the report should answer all your questions – unless the DA is really hard-pressed for evidence."

"I told you, this is not about the homicide. This is about us. I think you owe me an explanation about why you decided to get up and leave my bed in the middle of making love."

She was thankful for the darkness that was masking the faint blush that was rising to her cheeks. She had rehearsed this moment many times in the past months, but had never really come up with an answer. The thought flickered through her mind that if she answered him curtly, even if it hurt him, he'd leave…and walk out of her life. "You wouldn't understand," she began.

"Try me."

"It just didn't feel right, Woody….I guess you're just not my type…I don't know…it just wasn't…."

"Really? I'm not your type? And what is your type, Jordan? You lead me on for three years and are just now discovering I'm not your type?"

"People change, Wood."

Woody could feel the anger that he kept at a simmer between them rage into a boil. "So…just what exactly is your type, Jordan? This?" And with that, he pulled her roughly to him and kissed her…hard. Not letting her come up for air or to pull away from him. The blinds were drawn in her office and the door was locked. No one was expected in the morgue for several hours.

Jordan's head was spinning from his assault. Her mouth tingled and ached from the hard pressure of his lips and the only way she could breathe was through his kisses. He caught her lower lip with his teeth and tugged her mouth forcefully open, invading her mouth with his tongue, using it to explore every inch of it intimately, not giving her a chance to protest or escape from his embrace.

It was only when he heard her whimper against his lips that he eased the onslaught momentarily, and let his lips become coaxing, teasing hers to stay with his…then his hands moved from her arms to her back, easing her back down on the couch and tugging her shirt up above her breasts. Her bra quickly followed. She stiffened when her bare flesh rubbed against his dress shirt. But he didn't relinquish his hold on her, pushing both further up her body and beginning to caress her breasts with his hands.

"Woody," she managed to whisper, realizing that her plan had gone wrong…horribly wrong… "Woody?"

He pulled away from her then, his breath unsteady and his voice ragged, "What? Don't ask me to stop, Jo. Not this time. Not again."

She shook her head. "I'm not. Just please….slow down a little?"

"Slow? Why? To give you time to think of another excuse? I'm tired of waiting on you Jordan." He kissed her again. "I care about you. I thought that might mean something to you. Evidently not. You prefer men that are just going to use you and leave you with no strings attached. But I'd like to bring closure to this," he ran his eyes down her body, "before I move on with my life. I think you owe me this much."

But his kisses and caresses did become more loving in touch…and she found herself responding despite her better judgment. He finally tugged her shirt completely off and then ran his hand down her body until this fingers found the tie on her scrub pants. He slowly undid the strings and pushed the pants down to her knees, letting his hand caress her bare thighs and seductively trace patterns right below her navel…before the top of her thong began. Jordan felt her breath catch in her throat. Woody heard it, and caught her gaze with his before he roughly tugged her pants the rest of the way off, leaving her bare, with only the scraps of her underwear on. He impatiently slid out of his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. His physical onslaught had been so intense that Jordan couldn't react…to take his shirt off herself. She could only try to keep up with him and respond.

And it was getting harder to just keep up. His hand slid back up her leg to her thong and touched her through the silky material. She felt herself buck against him. Her underwear quickly followed the rest of her clothes…finding a spot on the floor of her office. From somewhere far away, she heard the click of his belt as he unbuckled it and then the rasp of his zipper as his pants fell away. He bent over and softly whispered in her ear, "Jo…Jordan…you with me?"

She cracked her eyes open then, to gaze in his smoky blue ones, but didn't respond. "Would you rather I said something else?" he asked, and bent back over and whispered something in her ear she never thought she'd hear coming from his lips. Not her Farm Boy's. Not to her. She felt the tears prick the backs of her eyelids as he slid into her, his palms going underneath her bottom and urging her legs around his waist. Then his hands were everywhere and his lips stayed on hers…then trailed down to her neck…across her collarbone…between her breasts.

Jordan was still having trouble keeping up with him…her breath coming in gasps as she felt the tension in her building and looking for a release. He felt it coming…the telltale clinch of her body. One of his hands went over her mouth just as she came, stifling the soft cry she let out…incase any of the security guards were nearby, he didn't want them getting suspicious and coming around to her office to see what the problem was. He tilted her hips up just a little more, and she climaxed again, tightening around his body hard before he followed suit.

How long they lay there together afterwards, she had no idea. She remembered dozing off, then feeling him leave her…cold and alone on the couch. When she opened her eyes, he was gone…


	4. Congratulations

**Chapter Four**

Slowly Jordan got up from the couch and put her clothes on, wondering at what had just happened. He didn't come back. She didn't expect him to. He said he wanted closure and he got it. Now he was moving on with his life. Which was what she had wanted … she knew any relationship they had together was destined to fail. Only she wasn't quite sure she had been ready to pay the price for getting him to move on.

She hadn't expected it to be that high.

Automatically, she pulled her scrub pants up and tied them, sliding on her shoes in the process. She clocked out, drove home, got a hot shower and collapsed in the bed, falling asleep nearly instantly. She had two days off before she had to go back in and face work…and possibly face Woody. Two days to pull herself together and act like what had happened this morning didn't matter to her. Two days to pull together a lie.

She could do it, she supposed. If only she could get the memory out of her head of what he felt like…how he made her feel…his touch. Then she would remember what he said to her, whispered in her ear that night…and it got a little easier. He still thought she was something she wasn't…but if that helped bring him closure and allowed him to move on without her, so be it. She had heard worse. She pulled the blanket up closer around her and shivered. She felt cold…the coldest she had known in a long time.

So, for two days she barely left her apartment, readjusting herself to the fact that Woody was in a position to move on with his life…she kept telling herself that it was for the best…that she didn't deserve him, not after all the mistakes she had made in her life. A man as good as he was needs and should have someone to love him better than she could. Some girl that was normal and had no issues.

She wasn't sure she knew how to do that - really love someone - Woody or anyone else. For so long, she had hid behind a wall, not allowing others in her life in fear that they would hurt her.

Or worse, she would hurt them.

And her life had been filled with too much hurt and pain to let anyone in that may cause her more…and God forbid she inflict that same feeling on others. Especially Woody.

Woody. The quintessential small town detective. He could have been Opie from Mayberry. Only he wasn't. He was shrewder and smarter than any man she had met, save her father. And looked like he could be the next cover for GQ or a Perre Ellis model.

She shook her head. She may be a sophisticated city girl, but in no way was she suited for a man like Woody.

* * *

It had been nearly three weeks since he had seen her. Had he been avoiding her? Yes…at first. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of that night…when he had totally lost control with her. He didn't plan for his actions to go that far that night, but at the first taste of her lips, he was lost. All the frustration, tension, anger that had been building up in him erupted. Next thing he knew, he was having sex with her on the couch in her office. 

And this time, he would call it sex. Raw need. Base want. There was no finesse in his touch, no goal in mind but ultimate satisfaction for both of them. He achieved that goal and was pretty sure she had, too.

Closure. That's what he told her he wanted. That was what he thought he would have after he left her alone, asleep on the couch in her office. No such luck. The only thing he had gotten in return for his night of passion was a hunger in his gut for more of her. Closure was the last thing he had gotten, although it was the first thing he had expected.

But he hadn't seen her. Their work schedules hadn't meshed. At first, he didn't worry, knowing that avoiding him may be Jordan's way of coping until she felt she could face him. However, as days slipped by and he still hadn't had a chance to look deep in those honey-colored eyes and make sure she was okay, he began to worry. Garret's words drifted back to mind: _She'll figure that she's messed up enough that it justifies her next action. She'll run._

That thought settled cold in the pit of his stomach. He wanted many things from Jordan, but there was no way he wanted her to run. He wanted to understand her…why was she acting this way? Had he done anything to make her this way?

How did she feel about that night in her office? Was that what she wanted?

He didn't really think so. He had felt enough of Jordan's compassion first hand to realize that something wasn't quite right with the lady. But until he saw her again, he wasn't going to know for sure…and he sure as hell wanted to know what it was.

* * *

Once again, it happened in her office. He caught her alone again in her office. She had been the answering ME on one of his calls and he dropped by the morgue personally to pick up the preliminary results, hoping to catch her by herself. She had been dodging him for weeks. 

He got off the elevator and walked down the deserted halls of the morgue. Once again, it was past five o'clock and the office was nearly empty. He saw her light on and her door was ajar. But instead of working on his report she was sitting in her desk chair dropping some liquid into a plastic disk. He lightly tapped on her door. She looked up, obviously startled to see him. She quickly regained her composure.

"The prelims are in the file slot on my door…the finals won't be completed for a couple of days," she responded to his sudden presence in her room.

"Fine, Jo. I just….just wanted to know how you're doing."

"I'm okay, Woody."

"Are you sure…I mean, I haven't seen you lately and I was just concerned…after…"

She gave him a tight smile. "I'm fine, Woody."

But he knew she wasn't. Whatever was going on with her, he knew she wasn't okay. Something was wrong…something was definitely wrong with her. However, dealing with Jordan was at best a delicate situation. You couldn't just go barging in and expect answers. He would need to skirt the issue in order to get answers. "What are you doing?" he asked, indicating the small plastic disk she kept watching and keeping an eye on her desk clock for.

"Running a test."

"What kind of test? And aren't you supposed to do that in trace?"

She turned her back to him to pull a file from her cabinet. "No…this test doesn't have anything to do with your victim. It has to do with me."

Woody swallowed hard. "What kind of test is it, Jordan?"

"A pregnancy test, Farm Boy."

"You're late."

"Yep. About a week late."

"Do you know who the father is?"

She turned to him. "I'm looking at him."

Woody shook his head. "That can't be…"

She arched an eyebrow. "No? You didn't stop to use a condom that night, if I remember correctly, and I'm not on the pill or patch, so…"

"But….you've dated others."

Her desk clock buzzed, interrupting their conversation."Here goes nothing," she muttered, picking the disk up and looking at it. The room was deadly quiet for a moment. Then she shoved the disk at him. "Congratulations Farm Boy. You're going to be a dad."

Woody looked at the disk then back to Jordan, who had walked over to the window and was gazing at the Boston skyline. He followed her over. "How do I know it's mine?" he asked quietly. "You haven't exactly been staying home on Friday nights."

Jordan sighed and closed her eyes. Her plan to move her out of his life was failing miserably. She was now pregnant with Woody's child. "Because," she replied, her voice faltering slightly, "I didn't sleep with any of them. You're the only man I've had sex with in the last two years."

Woody opened his mouth to reply, but never got the chance. Suddenly a loud siren went off and he and Jordan both went into panic mode.


	5. Tunnel Vision

**Chapter Five**

Boston is normally a quiet city…despite the loud and bloody part it played in the American Revolution, and it being the birth place of much of American history and literature. It wasn't all gunshots and explosions. It had remained very much a peaceful harbor town, and the only "rockets' red glare" it now witnessed was the fireworks on the Fourth of July.

Until tonight.

Boston, like most large cities, had prepared for terrorists attacks after 9/11. Small pox. Bombs. Anthrax, and a plethora of other possible toxins that could be set lose in a city. The siren announced that something had happened in Boston. Woody and Jordan looked at each other and ran for the door. Whatever was going on between them would have to wait. "I'll be in touch," he shouted to her as he ran for his office.

"Hey, Woody?" she yelled at him.

"What?" he turned back.

"This is just between us right now, okay?"

He nodded and kept running.

Meanwhile Jordan's cell phone was going crazy. Garret was paging her like mad. She answered his call. "Jordan – you've heard the sirens?" he asked.

"Yeah…I'm still at the morgue."

"Good. Because I'm calling everybody in….I don't know what it is yet, or how many people are involved, but it's major. My guess right now is we're looking at mustard gas, but I'm not one hundred percent sure. Get ready for a large number of causalities. Boston General is gearing for a large number of victims."

"Where did it happen at?"

"What? I can't hear you?"

Jordan could hear the cars around Garret…horns, more sirens. He was mobile.

"Where did it happen?"

"The tunnel out of Logan."

"Jesus…those people are trapped in there with mustard gas?"

"Looks that way…look, I gotta go. I'll be in touch."

"Don't you want me to come down there?"

Garret thought for a minute. "Yeah. Sydney should be coming into the morgue any minute now. Between him, Lily, and Emmy, they can get set up for a mass casualty ward. You come down here with me….but be careful."

"Will do. And Garret?"

"Yeah?"

"You do the same."

Jordan set her Nextel back in its holder on her waist. She quickly began to pull the tools and equipment needed out until Sydney came and took over. She left and made it to the site as quickly as possible.

It looked like a war zone. She found Nigel and Garret and was allowed in the tunnel. Woody caught site of her and his stomach knotted. She didn't need to be down here…exposed to this…not being pregnant. He suddenly felt the weight of responsibility for two people. He shook his head and nearly walked over to her when he saw her disappear into a van and a few minutes later come out with a full PAPR suit and mask. He bit his lip. He didn't like it, but at least she was being careful.

* * *

They worked for what seemed like days…pulling victims, both alive and dead, from the mangle inside the tunnel. When the mustard gas had been detonated, people lost control of their vehicles. There were injuries and deaths from car wrecks as well as from the gas. Woody tried to keep Jordan in sight, to make sure she was okay, but wasn't always successful. He was worried about her. She looked like she hadn't slept well when he saw her earlier…there were dark circles under her eyes.

He had a feeling none of them would sleep for a while.

And they didn't. By the time they had pulled the last victim from the tunnel, they both had been working nearly 18 hours straight. They didn't realize it until they went in for the last time…together. By now, the mustard gas had been cleared from the tunnel, so they could go in without the masks. He and Jordan were making one more clearance check at the back of the structure…just to make sure everyone was out. "Jo," he said softly, calling to her.

"Got someone else over there, Woody?"

"No…I was just wondering…are you okay? Are you feeling okay?"

"Tired. But I think I'm fine. You?"

"The same…the baby?"

"As far as I can tell, it's okay, too."

He sighed and leaned back against a car. "We need to talk, Jordan."

"I know," she said, bending down and shining a flashlight in the window of the twisted metal to check and make sure it was empty, "But now's not the time or place."

"Yeah. I realize that. Just…don't run, Jordan. Please. This is too important."

"I'm not going to. At least not yet. But if I do, I promise to tell you where I'm going. After all…you're going to be its dad…I'd never keep the baby from you."

He turned to take her arm and help her back to the entrance way. They had nearly got to the opening when Woody heard a groan… and felt a rumble. He immediately threw himself over Jordan as the entrance collapsed over top of them.

* * *

As Jordan came to, she could feel herself coughing and heard Woody doing the same. She prayed that the open ventilation to the tunnel had gotten rid of all the mustard gas…if not, they were going to be in serious trouble. But as moments passed and so did their fits of coughing, it seemed the collapse had only stirred up a lot of dust and debris.

"Jordan?" she heard Woody call.

"Over here," she flicked on her flashlight and soon saw him crawl his way over bricks and concrete to her. "Does your radio work?"

"Yeah. I've already put in a call…"

"Good. Maybe they can get us out soon." She sat down for a minute. Whether it was her pregnancy or her long hours of work with no food, she was getting dizzy. Woody sat down beside her.

"At least we get to chill out a minute," he said…trying to joke with her.

She nodded and stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back on some of the wreckage.

"Hey, wait…let me fix that for you." Woody pulled off his coat and laid it down for her to sit on.

"I don't expect favors from you now, Woody. Just because I'm pregnant."

"Yeah, but your pregnant with my child." _And I happen to worry about what happens to you,_ he added in his mind.

She was silent for a minute. "I want you to know that while I do expect and know that you'll be a wonderful father, I don't anticipate anything else from you…nor will I hold you to anything as far as I am concerned."

Woody felt his anger rise with her words. "And why not?"

"I don't want you to stay with me out of obligation to the baby. There are plenty of people who parent well together and aren't married."

"And I don't happen to want to be one of them."

Jordan swallowed hard. "No."

"No?"

"No. You heard me."

"And now you'll hear me, Jordan. I'll stay with you…and our baby. I want the baby to have a normal family. A mom and dad. Married. Together. Something that neither you nor I had."

"We can't give this kid 'The Brady Bunch' or 'Father Knows Best', Woody."

"No, but we can come damn close. We will both love him or her…and that goes a long ways…we both know that."

"I know that, too…but what about later, when the kid grows up?"

"Then we'll have each other."

Jordan felt the tears come to her eyes. "You and I both know that won't work."

"Why not? That night on your couch about three months ago seemed to go pretty well. Imagine what it could be like in a king size bed."

"It's about more than sex, Woody."

"That's what I tried to tell you at my apartment that night before you got scared and ran. It wasn't about sex…it was about making love. But you seem to have other ideas about relationships."

She was quiet for a long time after that. So quiet for so long that Woody got worried. "Jordan?" he asked softly, clicking on his flashlight to see her. She had her knees up, her arms wrapped around them and her head resting on her arms. He couldn't see her face, but he could see her shoulders. They were shaking.

Jordan was crying, and he felt like a heel. He had made her cry. Carefully shifting himself over the debris, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Jordan," he commanded firmly. "Look at me."

Her reaction was to turn further away from him. "Just leave me alone, okay? I'm tired, I'm ready to get out of here, I'm hungry…"

"And you're scared. Yeah. I know. I'm sorry, Jordan. They should have us out of here soon. I can hear them."

True to Woody's word, the sound of pick axes and equipment was heard on the other side of the collapsed wall. Woody's radio then crackled with news that they should have him and Jordan out of there in about a half an hour. He tentatively moved his hand off her shoulder to put his arm there and pull her to him. "It's going to be okay," he soothed, gently stroking her hair.

She buried her face in his neck. She was so tired…of work…of wondering if she was pregnant…then finding out she was…now what was she going to do? And Woody promising her a lifetime with him. It was there…everything she ever wanted was dangling within reach. All she had to do was grab it.

But it wouldn't work. They'd end up hurting each other badly.

However that didn't change the fact she wanted him. She hugged him tighter to her. "Jordan?" he asked, unsure of why she was reacting this way, but he felt her tears against his neck. "Look…honey, what's wrong?"

"As much as I think it would be great for the baby, it would never work…not us together." She said it with such firm conviction it nearly left no room for doubt. A fear began to creep into Woody's heart.

That night on her couch…he had assumed that all of her relationships had pretty much been fleeting one-night stands. Could he be wrong? Was there someone who held her heart? Was that what she was trying to tell him? His mouth went dry. "Why Jordan? Why wouldn't it work?"

"Because…you'd realize all-too-soon that I'm not right for you…I'm damaged goods…I have far too many issues…and that you deserve so much better than me."


	6. Tempted

**Chapter Six**

_You deserve so much better than me…_ her words rang in his ears the next few weeks. Where the hell did she get the idea that she wasn't good enough for him? He had no idea, but had tried to go out of his way to dispel that from her mind.

But it wasn't working.

Anytime he'd volunteer to help her, or go out of his way to reiterate his desire for a permanent relationship with her, she'd retreat back into her shell and shake her head. She was convinced that it wouldn't work.

She had called her doctor about prenatal care. Woody was there when the phone conversation took place. Against her protests, he accompanied her to the doctor. An initial exam and some intake information let them know that Jordan was indeed about nine weeks pregnant and healthy. So was the baby. Its heartbeat was strong and loud. Woody had sighed with relief. She had put in long hours dealing with the terrorist attack, not clocking out until 48 hours after the event. Garret had to run her out of the morgue. She had gone home and slept for two days, but to Woody, she still looked tired and worn out. Dr. Jenkins said it was probably due in some part to her efforts cleaning up after the mustard gas, but that it was more than likely just a typical reaction to her first trimester. Extreme fatigue is a common side effect of pregnancy.

She still had not told Garret she was pregnant. She would, she promised…she just needed to find the right words, she said, as Woody was driving her back from the doctor's appointment. She yawned and stretched out in the seat next to him.

"Have you thought about names yet?" he asked, trying to engage her in more than a monosyllabic conversation.

"Names? No. I'd like to know what I'm having before I deal with that."

"So you want to know what it is?"

She nodded and yawned again. "I am so tired," she said.

"We'll be back at you apartment soon, Jo." He pulled onto Pearle Street.

"No…I have to go back to the morgue."

Woody frowned. "I thought Macy gave you the day off."

"He did. But the exterminators are at my building spraying for bugs today. I don't need to be breathing the fumes of that stuff while I'm pregnant…" She yawned again. "So I was going back into my office to lie down for a little while."

Woody quickly turned the car around. "No. If you go back into work, I know what will happen. You'll end up helping with trace or autopsy or with some kind of problem." He continued to drive.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere you can get some rest," he replied and pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building.

She protested all the way upstairs and even more when he pulled her into his apartment. "You can get some rest here," he said as he escorted her to his bedroom and pushed her down on the mattress. He then helped her take off her shoes and then went for her blouse. She was too tired to protest too much. Before long, he had her down to her cami and panties and covered her up with his blanket. To his great relief and delight, she turned over and snuggled deep into his pillow. Her eyes were already shut and she was out. He turned off the light and pulled the door partially closed. That way he could hear her if she needed him.

He sat down in his easy chair and thought. She was fine, Dr. Jenkins said. So was the baby. That was a relief. He had worried after the exposure to the mustard gas. Now he was concerned about her hours…the long working hours she put in at the morgue. He didn't know much about pregnant women, but had done some internet research. They needed rest. Better nutrition. No alcohol. Smoke-free environment. Jordan was carrying their child…he wanted the best for it. He wanted the best for her.

Hell, he just wanted her.

He rose from his chair and noiselessly pushed the bedroom door open. He had dreamed of this for more years than he cared to remember…the sight of her in his bed. She was slightly on her back, her long, chestnut hair spread out on his pillow, blanket pushed down to her waist. Dead to the world. He chuckled. She hadn't exaggerated one bit. She was exhausted. Just as quietly as he entered the room, he took off his suit and stripped down to only his boxers. Then ever-so-gently, he eased into the bed beside her, holding his breath that she wouldn't wake up. She didn't. When he pulled her into his arms, all she did was cuddle closer and keep on sleeping. Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he soon was asleep, too.

He awoke some hours later, the sun sinking low in the Boston sky, bathing the room in warm golds and pinks. Jordan was still sound asleep, her head on Woody's shoulder. He eased out from under her so not to wake her. _She must really be exhausted,_ he thought. _She's been through a lot the last few days…discovering she's pregnant…the terrorist attack…all the hours she's put in. Poor girl._ He tenderly pushed a curl off her face. _After all she gives to people…closure to lives, help to victims' families, answers to the police…she thinks she's not good enough for me…that she's damaged goods…I need to change her mind…somehow…I'm afraid my past actions haven't been so smart….I think I contributed a lot to her mental state…pushed too hard, too fast, before she was ready for a relationship. And I didn't help matters that night in her office…when I got her pregnant. _

She stirred beside him, jerking awake in a somewhat unfamiliar bed, not quite sure what happened. She partially sat up. "What…."

"Shhh. It's okay. You're with me…resting. Lie back down, Jo. I'll fix dinner. We can eat and then I'll drive you home."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"About six hours." Woody grinned at her.

"Oh man. I never sleep during the day."

"Things are different now, Jo. The doctor said that during the first trimester or so, you're going to be tired. You need to give into it. Just rest."

She shook her head. "I'm fine now…but dinner sounds kind of nice…"

"Deal. I'll cook…you can rest while I do."

"Could I get a shower? I feel really groggy…"

"Sure. There's towels and things in the bathroom. Make yourself at home."

Leaving Jordan to shower, Woody went back into the kitchen to see what was available for dinner. Not really a whole lot, really…he hadn't gotten groceries this week. He knew she liked Chinese, so he phoned a place that had delivery and had several items sent over. Then he returned to the bedroom, to tell her what he had done…the shower was still running…A thought flickered through his head and before he could change his mind, he opened the bathroom door, dropped his boxers, slid back the shower curtain. Jordan's back was to him and he pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her, one hand going protectively to the area just under her belly button and his lips finding the curve of her neck.

"Woody?"

"You were expecting someone else?" he chuckled in her ear.

"I wasn't expecting you…"

"I can leave…"

"Bet you can't."

"Bet you don't want me to…" he turned her in his arms and pulled her wet body to his…watching the warm water sluice over her hair and down her back. "I happen to wash backs very well," he continued, taking her bath cloth and soap from her. Working the lather into the cloth, he began to wash her back, starting between her shoulders and working down to the narrow taper of her waist, feeling her bunched muscles relax under his fingers. By the time he was finished, she was holding on to his shoulders for support. He glanced down at her….her brown eyes holding his blue ones captive…water running in rivulets down both of them…and slowly lowered his lips to hers, giving her time to back away if she wanted.

But she didn't want to…she met his kiss with eager lips, softening against him and opening her mouth, moving as close to him as the narrow confines of the shower would allow. He dropped the bath cloth and continued his exploration of her body with his hands…her shoulders, down the sides to her hips….over her bottom…the gentle swell of her breasts, until she pulled away and began her own study of him. His broad shoulders…tight chest and abs, his hard thighs…until he couldn't stand it anymore. He reached over turned off the water, and stepped out of the shower. Grabbing a towel from off the sink, he held it open for her to step into, kissing her again as he wrapped it around her, and then carried her to bed.

This time, he let the minutes stretch….not rushing anything, making sure she was secure and ready before he took her hands on either side of her head and threaded his fingers together with hers. And made love to her…like he had wanted to for so long…from the minute he had first laid eyes on her during the homicide at the bank three years ago, until the time she had fled his apartment, to the time in her office…this was how he really had wanted it to be…leisurely and slow…taking care of each other's needs…until they both tightened around each other.

Jordan lost her breath at his lovemaking. Sex was not new to her. Making love was. And that's what Woody was doing. And this was the difference between the two…she felt it to her soul and it left her hungry for more…of it and of Woody.

This was what he was offering her. A lifetime of this. And she was very tempted to take him up on his offer.


	7. A Daughter

**Chapter Seven**

The ice had broken in Jordan's heart…she began to feel that the warm under currants of love she had for Woody were justifiably hers…that maybe, just maybe, despite her past, she could have a normal life with a man she loved.

And hoped he loved her. Woody had never stated it, even during their lovemaking that afternoon in his apartment. The words had never left his mouth. But Jordan grew more sure of her feelings everyday. By his actions she knew Woody cared…but wasn't sure how much. She didn't want him staying with her out of obligation only to the baby. That would kill off any of the tenuous bonds that had begun to form around them, and their child.

Their child…who was growing inside her a little more each week. At four months, you still couldn't tell she was pregnant. Her tummy was flat, despite the sonogram the doctor had performed to show her and Woody their baby. She had felt no movement yet, despite the doctors' and nurses' reassuring comments that she would. The baby was developing normally…the heart beat was strong. Things were right on schedule. Her life went on at a fairly normal clip. Garret was now aware of her condition and had removed her from performing x-rays.

But whether it was woman's intuition or a mother's instinct, Jordan felt something wasn't quite right. She never voiced it to the doctors or to Woody. She just felt a brooding darkness in the pit of her soul. But with everything reassuring … the sonograms, the medical reports…she began to dismiss the thoughts from her mind as over reactions to her roller coaster hormone changes, and soon paid them no attention.

Until one day when she answered a typical homicide call for Woody. It was a regular traffic fatality. Nothing unusual. She had opened the door to her SUV and Woody was coming around to help her out when the bottom of her abdomen contracted, doubling her over with pain. "Jordan!" Woody said softly, but urgently, not wanting to attract the other officers' attention. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing…just a little indigestion, I'm sure," she replied. But then another cramp bent her double. And feeling a wet stickiness run against her leg, she looked down. Blood.

Something was very wrong.

* * *

"She miscarried," Dr. Jenkins told Woody, who had been pacing the waiting room floor of the hospital until he got an answer.

"Why? I thought everything was progressing normally…that everything was fine."

"It was…but sometimes these things happen, and usually they happen for a reason, Detective Hoyt."

"Could something have caused it?"

"No…it was nothing that you did or Jordan did. Sometimes these things, as horrible and tragic as they are….they just happen. You can't put a reason or a why behind it. They just do. I hate to sound cliché, but you're young and so is Dr. Cavanaugh. There's no reason you can't try to have a baby again in a few months…and there's absolutely no reason to think that this time she wouldn't carry to term. Lots of mothers miscarry their first child and then go on to have a house full of them. Jordan will be no different. I promise."

Woody didn't have the heart to tell Dr. Jenkins that they weren't really trying when Jordan got pregnant with this baby. It just sort of happened and they were dealing with it.

"Jordan," he said suddenly. "How is she?"

"We had to do a D&C. She's resting in recovery now. I'd like to keep her over night, to keep a check on her temperature and make sure there's no infection. She's aware what happened…she was awake for the procedure."

Procedure…that had removed their child from her womb. Their baby. The child they had both wanted. The tiny person that had somehow knitted their two souls together so they could begin a life as a couple…and then later as a family. "I know it's kind of early…just the fifth month or so…but could you tell….?" Woody stammered.

The doctor nodded.

* * *

Woody was sitting by her side, holding her hand when she came to. Throughout the whole D&C she had wondered and worried about him…what he was thinking about the baby, how was he coping…

What and if he was thinking about her. Did he think she had done something to deliberately bring on her miscarriage? She had wracked her brain over it. She hadn't lifted anything heavier than a scalpel. She had performed no x-rays. She was eating right. No alcohol. No drugs. No smoky environments. Lots of milk and water. Fresh vegetables. Prenatal vitamins. She had kept all her appointments to the doctor.

And Dr. Jenkins had assured her that there was nothing she could have done to prevent it. "It's just one of those things, Dr. Cavanaugh. I'm sure with your medical background, you understand."

She did. Cognitively, she did.

But her heart was broken over the matter, because she felt she had not only lost the baby, but she had also lost Woody.

"Hey," he said softly when he saw her eyes flicker open.

Immediately her eyes filled with tears…and they began to roll down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Woody…" she began, her voice breaking on every word.

"Shhh….it's okay. You're going to be okay, Jordan."

"Yeah, but the baby…."

Woody sighed and took her hand in both of his. Raising it to his lips, he kissed each finger. "I know…I'm so sorry, too, Jordan. But it just wasn't meant to be. Not this time."

Jordan wasn't sure if he meant the baby or them. Her tears fell faster. "But I wanted it so badly, Woody. We both did."

He nodded. "It just … it was just one of those things. But the most important issue here is for you to get better. Dr. Jenkins is keeping you overnight and I'll bring you home tomorrow."

"No…please….I want to go home." She had never desired the solitude of her apartment more than she did right now. To be able to go back to Pearle Street and lick her wounds…see where to go from here….and pray to a God she wasn't sure heard her any longer that Woody still wanted her.

"Shh….it's okay. You'll go home tomorrow morning." Woody rang for the nurse. He was afraid Jordan was borderline hysterical and needed something to calm her down. He talked to the nurse for a moment before she injected Jordan with medication through her IV. "This will make you rest, Jordan," he said, gently stroking her hair back from her face. "You need your rest."

But before the meds began to work their magic and before Woody withdrew his hand from her hair, she turned to him and asked the one question that was still burning in her mind. "Woody…what was it? What were we having?"

Woody swallowed hard. "A girl, Jo. We were going to have a daughter."


	8. Awkward

**Chapter Eight**

Woody took her home the next morning, and stayed with her the rest of the day…which they spent mainly just holding each other on the couch. In a normal death, society gives you permission to grieve…take some time off from work…get away from people and let grief take its natural course.

Miscarriage is different. There are no physical remains to grieve over….there's no wake, no visitation, no funeral service. There's no place to put a headstone to come back and place flowers on. There's nothing. So society expects you to go on with your life almost as if nothing happened. You've never held the baby…never nurtured the small life…never sat up with it all night. You've never been a parent. Not really. Nothing has happened.

But it did. Something did happen to Jordan and Woody. A life had grown inside of her for nearly five months. A life that had brought two people together. And now it was gone … a tiny daughter that both of them had wanted so much. So they cried together and held each other. Woody moved in with her, in an effort to help both of them cope. For a while it worked, as they tried to go on with their lives and let everything return to normal.

Normal. A state of mind that kept eluding them now. The miscarriage hung between them like the elephant in the living room that no one wanted to talk about. It was big and huge and they both tried to pretend it didn't happen.

But pretending didn't make it go away. Things kept growing more awkward between them until finally Woody moved back to his apartment. "I think we just need a little space and time," he told Jordan. "But I'm here if you need me. All you need to do is call."

"Same here," she had replied, watching him pack up his belongings in a duffel bag and head out. Her big, red door slammed shut behind him…locking him out of her apartment and she felt her out of his life. He had never said he loved her…he had just been with her because of the baby. This time, he had pushed _her _away. What more could she expect? She had her chance at happiness and had tried to reach out and grab it. She missed. Big time. She doubted she would ever have that chance again…to be with Woody, have his child.

Make love to him again.

Jordan returned to work with a vengeance, much to Garret's dismay. "You can take it easy," he told her.

"If I work, I don't think," she replied.

"How's Woody taking this?"

"About the same…I haven't really seen him much since…." Her voice faltered. "And Garret, for a while, I'd really appreciate it if I didn't have to go out on his calls. Please?"

Narrowing his eyes, Garret gave her a hard look. "Is he blaming you for the miscarriage?"

"No. It's just things are a little awkward between us now."

Awkward was putting it politely. While Woody had never said a word to her about it, Jordan couldn't help but wonder if he did, deep down under everything, blame her for losing the baby. He didn't voice it, but the looks he gave her at times made her wonder.

She felt so empty without the baby. She felt so lost without Woody. Her grief over the both of them was monumental. Her guilt, while not justified, was just as huge. The hours she put in at the morgue to try to fill her barren days coupled with the sleepless nights she was experiencing wrote themselves all over her face.

And Woody noticed it. He would have to be blind not to. The dark circles, lackluster eyes and sad smile. He saw it all. And he worried…just like he did when she was pregnant. But he wasn't sure what to do about it…was it his place to even worry about her anymore?

He wanted to talk to her. He needed to. But he never got the chance. She wasn't answering his homicide calls any longer. She wasn't answering his phone calls, either. He didn't dare try to catch her in the office again. Somehow that had never been too effective. So he waited and watched until she worked at the Pogue one Friday evening, coming in shortly before closing. She had her back to the bar, ringing up a sale. When she turned back around, he was sitting in front of her. "Hi," he said softly. "Haven't seen you in a while. I was worried. Thought I'd come see how you were."

"Okay…how are things with you?"

"Good." He ran a hand through his hair. "Look, can you talk for a minute?"

Jordan scoped out the bar. It seemed everything was taken care of…they could run it without her for a while. "Denise, I'm going to take a break…" she called out to the bartender. She came from behind the bar. He held out his hand and led her to a table in the back.

"Jordan…are you really okay? You look…tired."

She shut her eyes and nodded. "I am…or will be. I'm just working hard…trying to put everything behind me."

Woody felt his heart sink. He guess by _everything_, she meant him, too. "Is it working?" he asked, taking her hands in his.

The gentle gesture brought tears to her eyes. It seemed she cried over everything now… bodies, sappy TV shows, runs in her panty hose….they all were fodder for her hormones to act on. "It keeps my mind off of things," she said, clearing her throat and looking him in the eyes. "Are you okay, Woody?"

He took a deep breath before replying. "I don't know. I'm trying to be…but so much of my life was revolving around you and the baby…and now that it's all gone, I'm not sure quite what to do. I'm still trying to figure out what to do next."

"I know what you mean," she replied. There was a silence for several minutes. Not exactly uncomfortable, but neither of them were at ease with each other either. Woody began to feel like his world – or what he wanted to be his world – was slipping away from him. She was retreating behind her walls again…he had hurt her more than any words or gestures could ever repair. He had gotten her pregnant. She had embraced the idea of being a mother…and was even entertaining the idea of being with him…and then she lost the baby. For a woman that had been handed a world of hurt by the time she was ten, he knew the last event in her life may have been too much for her to deal with. She may retreat behind those emotional walls she was so good at erecting and never come back out. And he imagined seeing him all the time, even from a distance, didn't help. "Look, Jo, I need to go now. There's some place I need to be. But look…if you want to talk about …the miscarriage…or how you're feeling about it…call me. I mean, I understand better than anybody because I'm going through it, too." He got up to leave.

"Woody?" Jordan asked, looking up at him. She had to know. If she never talked to him again after tonight, she had to know. "Do you blame me for all ….this? Please tell me the truth. I need to know."

He bent down and kissed her forehead. "No. Not in anyway, Jordan, does any of the blame belong to you."


	9. Getting Back on Track

**Chapter Nine**

He got in the car and drove off into the cool Boston night. He wasn't lying to Jordan. He did have some place he needed to go. He went back to the precinct, back to his office and pulled up the website for the Massachusetts Police Departments. After a few brief clicks, he printed out the information he needed and turned off his computer and went home…back to a quiet apartment and an empty bed where he tossed and turned all night, thinking about her. She wasn't resting. She wasn't eating…he could tell. She looked horrible…and it was his fault. If he hadn't of pushed the issue with her that night in her office…she would have never been put through this. He rolled over from his stomach to his back and put his hands behind his head. He knew she was emotionally raw right now…hurt beyond words. Hurt beyond anything. But he had a plan. He just hoped he had the courage to follow through with it.

Jordan didn't fare much better at sleep that night than Woody did. She closed up the bar, went home, took a shower, sat on the couch and gazed out over the Boston skyline. She could have had a glass of wine now to help her sleep. Alcohol was no longer forbidden. But she hadn't restocked her kitchen. She was half afraid that if she started drinking, she may crawl into a bottle and not come back out for a while. She pushed her hair off her shoulders. Woody had surprised her tonight by coming by the Pogue. She hadn't expected him. She hadn't seen him…on purpose, she gently chided herself. She hadn't been sure that if on some level he didn't blame her for the loss of their child. But he told her tonight that he didn't. And he had been honest. She read it in his eyes.

Where that bit of truth put them, she didn't know. They were no long prospective parents together. They were no longer lovers. She wouldn't even categorize them as_ friends_ right now. She shivered at that thought. A year ago she would have said Woody was one of her best friends. He had tried to move the relationship along into something more…but her fears pushed that aside…that she wasn't good enough for him…that he deserved something better. She got up from the couch and stretched, deciding to head for bed and at least put forth the effort to try and get some sleep. But it was a long night for Jordan. Her eyelids didn't close until the sun had begun to rise over the city.

* * *

She went back to work on Monday. So did he. They both worked at solving Boston's homicides, although they seldom worked together any longer. Both still found it too painful. She would catch glimpses of him across the police station…he would see her at the morgue. Their eyes would meet and then drop. There had been too much between them before and now there was too much better left unsaid.

So they changed the strange mating/dating dance they had done for years. Now it was called _avoidance_. If they didn't see each other, they didn't hurt. And if they didn't hurt, they could at least pretend to go on with their lives as if nothing had happened.

Until Santana's wedding. Yep. The petite, brunette homicide detective was getting married. Woody and Jordan were invited to the wedding. Woody went because heworked closely with Santana. Jordan went because the woman was a good friend of hers. Woody figured Jordan would be there. He saw her in the chapel at St. Inez, sitting three pews in front of him. She looked lovely, in a simple pink dress with her hair piled on top of her head. When she turned to talk to Nigel beside of her, he could see that she still looked tired….the dark circles ringed her eyes. He sighed. She still wasn't getting any closer to the Jordan he knew before the miscarriage. And he'd bet his piece of wedding cake she wasn't eating right, either.

Delicate. Jordan Cavanaugh looked delicate. Something he never thought he'd see. A part of him wanted to carry her away somewhere and care for her until she could get her footing back. But as the days were creeping closer to their daughter's actual due date, it seemed she got more and more…well, _breakable_.

That thought nearly broke Woody.

So he made up his mind. And then he made a few phone calls.

* * *

_Today was a day from hell_, Jordan thought as she let herself in her apartment and kicked off her shoes. Six autopsies, four bodies in trace, and the mounds of paperwork that accompanied both….But at least today was Friday and she could rest up during the weekend. After working tonight at the Pogue. She absent-mindedly flipped through her mail and hit the play button on her answering machine. Two hang ups. A sales call. Then Woody's voice came through loud and clear. "Hi…Jo. It's Woody. Didn't want to bother you at work. I need to see you…talk to you. I was wondering if it would be okay if I came by your apartment before you went to the bar tonight. I promise it won't take long…if it's not okay, give me a call on my cell phone? I'm kind of mobile right now." His voice sounded strained and breathless….She replayed the message and shrugged her shoulders. She hadn't seen him often after the miscarriage. She had talked to him even less. Jordan walked into her bedroom and changed clothes, wondering what he could possible have to say to her now, with everything being so awkward between them…

She saw him at Santana's wedding. He looked thinner, and the lines on his face made him look haggard. They both were still getting over the miscarriage. He hadn't reached out to her since then. She couldn't help but wonder if that was what he was thinking about doing tonight…seeing if they could at least be friends again and then maybe, just maybe, move the relationship along to a little more.

She missed him. She really did. She missed her best friend…his corny jokes, dry sense of humor….his fast mind.

If possible, she missed her lover more. She missed being held by him…feeling safe…she missed his kisses and his touch. It was getting harder and harder to tell which left her more empty … the loss of the baby or the loss of Woody.

But he would be over in a little bit to talk to her….Maybe…just maybe he was trying to get things back on track.


	10. Heading West

**Chapter 10**

He was transferring to Springfield.

That's what he wanted to talk to her about tonight. He came over to her apartment. After a few hesitant minutes of small talk, he led her over to the couch and sat down with her. Then gently taking her hands, he told her that he had requested a transfer to the Springfield Massachusetts Police Department.

"That's a smaller city, Woody…less than 200,000 people," she said.

"Yeah. I know. It will be quieter, and I need quiet right now."

"Will you keep your rank?"

He nodded. "And possibly get a promotion."

"Gee. That's great, Woody," she replied, still struggling to understand why he was doing this and to accept the fact that he was. "I'm…I'm…." She meant to tell him she was happy for him. But she wasn't. Her voice broke and she looked down at their hands still clasped together. "Why Woody? Why are you doing this? You love Boston and your work here."

He tightened his hold on her hands. "We need serious space between each other right now, Jordan. I know you may not know it, but I watch you…I've been worried. You're not eating right, not resting…and I can't help but feel that if you didn't have to see me everyday, you wouldn't be constantly reminded of the baby and the miscarriage. Maybe it will help us both get over it and go on with our lives."

Jordan felt the tears spring to her eyes. _Get over it…get over him…how am I supposed to do that?_ "When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning."

That explained his strained and breathless voice on her answering machine. He was moving his stuff. He was busy trying to get out of her life as quickly as possible.

"How long will you be gone?"

Woody paused for a moment. He had caused this woman so much pain and had watched that pain nearly eat her alive. Despite his feelings for Jordan…how much he loved her…he realized that in the end, he was no better than any of the other men Jordan had dated. Just like them, he had hurt her.

But it was a double-edged sword. He knew he needed to get out of her life, but he also knew that in order for him to survive, he needed to stay connected with her somehow and someway. Dropping his eyes to their hands, he softly replied, "I don't know, Jordan. I just don't know."

"Oh. But you will come back?"

"I don't know that, either, Jordan."

"So you're leaving me, too." It wasn't a question.

The harshness in her voice cut Woody to the quick. "No, Jordan…it's not like…"

"Yes it is," she managed to choke out, getting up from the couch and pushing away from him. "It's just like all the other times in my life when people have bailed out on me when I needed them the most. I thought you were different. You….Woodrow Wilson Hoyt…the picture of Midwestern values…small town morals….but you're not. You're not any better than the others. The minute I need you…really need you, you decide to leave." She had her back to him now, gazing unseeing at the Boston skyline.

"Jordan…I just think that for awhile it would be for the best. I mean, all we do is constantly remind each other of….the miscarriage…and of _her_….and what we might have had. Maybe, if we have some time apart, we both can get better…heal…and then see where that takes us."

She let out a laugh…bitter and short. "Sure. Whatever you say, Woody."

He swallowed hard. "I'm just doing what I think is best for you."

She didn't respond. He wanted so badly to go over to her, take her in his arms and just plead for time….a few months, just to get his head straightened on right…for her to get her emotional bearings again…and then see where that would take them. But his feet remained glued to the spot he was in.

And instead of offering her healing, he had hurt her yet again. Maybe it was time he got out of her life. "I need to go, Jordan," he half-whispered to her back.

"Then don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out."

* * *

The early morning sun was just beginning to paint the sky with pinks and yellows when Woody loaded the last few things into his U-Haul – a lamp, his bedspread, and pillows. He slammed the doors shut and locked them. Then checking to make sure the hitch was secured, he climbed into the driver's seat of his car and looked out. Boston. It had been his home for four years. There had been good times and bad times. He had made some friends and hell, if he was honest with himself, some enemies.

And he had met her. A whiskey-eyed medical examiner who had stolen his heart. She still had it. She probably always would. He ran his fingers through his hair. He had half-expected her to show up this morning demanding that he stop…not go anywhere until they had another chance to talk.

But that had been wishful thinking. He had hurt her…and then bailed on her. In Jordan's mind, that was unforgivable. He lingered a few moments longer in the parking lot of his former apartment building…then started the ignition, pulled out into the early morning traffic and pointed his Honda Civic west.

Boston was no longer his home and she was no longer his girl.

* * *

She did craw inside a bottle that night.

As soon as Woody left and her door slammed shut, she grabbed her purse and headed down to the corner store. She had bought two six-packs of Guinness and Tequila. She was mid-way through the second six-pack before she began to feel anything remotely like release. And when it finally came, she had sobbed in her pillow until the sky began to lighten with the pinks and yellows that heralded another Boston morning. With her head aching and her eyes swollen, she dialed Woody's apartment…she needed to speak to him one more time. It rang…and rang. Then a disembodied mechanical voice came on the line to tell her the number had been disconnected. She hung her phone up. He was as good as gone.

But not so easily forgotten.


	11. Times Up

**Chapter Eleven**

Time. It can be both a blessing and a curse. You can swear at it or swear by it. Either way, it's there. Days. Months. Years. Its passing is as inevitable as most people's next breath.

And that's exactly what Jordan found out. No matter how her arms ached to hold her baby…no matter how much her heart ached for Woody, time still passed. One minute bled into another until a whole hour had passed. Then the hours merged into a day…then the days to weeks and the weeks to months. Soon a whole year had passed.

It hadn't been easy. She did crawl into a bottle until her daughter's due day…July 11. She tried to drink away the pain and emptiness in her life…until Garret could no longer overlook it and called her on the carpet about it. She had moved in with him until she got her emotions in check and her health back. She went back to her own apartment shortly before her own birthday.

One day at a time…that's how she lived…giving herself permission to grieve her daughter on her own terms. And grieve the loss of the child's father, too. She missed Woody so much she didn't know how she could possibly face the years ahead of her without him.

But time worked with her. "You know, Jordan, it has been said that time heals all wounds," Garret told her one day after staff meeting. "Maybe you just need to give yourself more time."

Time. The panacea for what ailed her. But there was nothing else she could really do. That first year, she filled her days with work and her nights with friends, work at the Pogue, or the child bereavement support group she belonged to. Then she would mark that day off her calendar, celebrating that she had coped for another 24-hours. She was learning to deal with the loss of her daughter.

The loss of her daughter's father was another matter. That first year, Jordan swung between being incredibly furious with Woody and missing him so much she physically ached. Time was not working with her on the issue of Woody Hoyt.

The second year was better. When she went to the police station, she no longer instinctively looked in his old office to see if he was still there. She no longer held her breath when she answered a homicide call to see if the detective on sight was Woody. She deleted his cell phone number and his apartment number from the speed dials of her cell phone. She stopped searching the Springfield Police Department's website to see if there was any news of him. She packed away all the mementoes she had of their times together….pictures…ticket stubs…the key to his apartment…his old Boston PD sweatshirt….She put them in a box and went to throw them in the dumpster at her apartment, but found at the last minute, her feet wouldn't take her there. So she hid them on the top back shelf of her closet, assuming that one day she would move from her Pearle Street apartment…by then, they would mean less than nothing to her and she could throw them out then, along with last year's fashions and yesterday's newspapers.

The sonogram picture of her daughter she kept in a frame, hidden in her desk drawer. On occasion, especially around July 11, she would pull it out and look at it. Initially, she'd cry…then run her finger around the small figure and wonder why. Now she would pull it out and wonder _what if_….what if she had carried to term? What if the child had lived? What would she look like? Who would she look like? What would she have been named? Would she have been a good mother?

Would she and Woody be married?

Then she would swallow hard and carefully place the picture back in the drawer. Sometimes, the what if's were better not even thought about.

By the third year, Jordan was pretty much back to normal. She felt better physically. She still sometimes struggled with the issue of her miscarriage…especially when some of her friends were pregnant. However, to Garret and the others, it seemed that Jordan had reached some sort of peace about it. She even seemed to reconcile herself the probability that she wouldn't see Woody again. Whether or not she was at peace with this issue was anybody's guess. She didn't mention him at all anymore. She was even seeing other men. But no detectives. "I won't date anyone I work with again," she told Lily. "Ever. If you see me heading that way, you have my permission to slap me."

"I promise," Lily had agreed. The last two years for Jordan had not been pretty. She didn't want her friend going through anything like that remotely again.

She had moved her office. Garret had been initially surprised at her request. Jordan had one of the nicest offices, but granted her demand. She took a smaller one down the hall, nearly across from Nigel's. It didn't have room for a couch – just a couple of chairs. If she worked late and needed to rest, she borrowed the couch in Garret's office.

Time had been her friend, her allied companion, her physician for her deep emotional wounds. She had healed, but she was still scarred.

But scar tissue is known for its toughness and resiliency.

And Jordan found herself both tougher and yet more sensitive because of what she had been through. She had pulled through a tough period in her life. Survived and flourished. Came out of it a better person.

Yet she still wondered about Woody. Now that her anger had subsided, she wondered how he was doing….was he coping?

Did he like Springfield or did he want to come back to Boston now? Did he know she was better and could deal with it?

Or had he found someone else and settled down?

She wasn't sure exactly how to get in touch with him. She wanted to talk to him, and debated for weeks whether to call the Springfield Massachusetts Police Department or write a letter.

In the end, she decided she wanted to see him…face to face. She needed to observe for herself what was going on in his life. Without giving herself time to think twice, she went on line and booked herself a flight to Springfield. Then she filled out a request for two weeks vacation time and e-mailed it to Garret. He sent it back with approved on it in less than ten minutes.


	12. Please Come Home

**Chapter Twelve**

Springfield was a nice town, relatively speaking.

It was quieter than Boston…cleaner, to a degree…nestled back into the western edge of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. The population was smaller, but still was enough to give the town an air of "big city" without all the problems that a larger city like Boston has.

During the three years he had been here, Woody had fit in well as a homicide detective with the police department. He had made friends…found another neighborhood bar…and worked with ME's. He had held his breath when he was introduced to the only female ME in Springfield. If she had brown eyes and chestnut hair, he knew he would go off the deep end. Instead, Margie was short, stout, and red-headed. Nearly forty, with three kids and definitely married. Woody had sighed. At least no memories would be stirred up working the Margie.

So Springfield was working out for him….relatively speaking.

Like Jordan, he felt the days, months, and years slide into each other…working themselves into some sort of cosmic jigsaw puzzle. Some days were easier than others. Some days were just plain hard…especially if a big crime came across their website from Boston and her name was mentioned in the article.

Then he'd begin to wonder and worry all over again…how was she? Was she coping better without him there to remind her of everything that could have been? Was she still dealing with the death of their daughter?

Was she coping with that better than he was? Woody had thought that as a man, it would be different for him. He hadn't carried the baby, felt her kick on the inside of him, know the millions of tiny sensations carrying a life can bring. Jordan did.

That's why it surprised him how hard July 11 hit him. He woke up that day, dreading it. On a day when he and Jordan should have been joyfully awaiting the birth of their daughter, he found himself cold, alone, lonesome, and _empty_. He wanted his daughter. He wanted Jordan. Instead he was by himself in a strange town with strange people who had no clue really why he was there.

But time passed. He concentrated on his job and not his personal life, as one year slipped into two and two into three. He still wondered about her…and at nights still ached to hold her. He had told her he wasn't sure if he would come back to Boston, but lately he wasn't sure if he could continue to exist if the _didn't_ go back there. However, how he would be received by her…he really couldn't guess.

Work…it kept him busy and kept him from thinking too much. He was through processing an arrest and was making his way back to his office when the sergeant stopped him. "Hoyt, you got a visitor. She got here earlier and said she'd wait for you. So I put her in your office. She seemed the quiet type … wouldn't cause any problems."

"Thanks. I'll go there now," he replied, assuming it was the wife of the man he had just arrested for murder. He grabbed a cup of coffee from the break room, opened his office door, and caught his breath.

It was Jordan.

He spilled his coffee as he stumbled toward his desk, his eyes telling him information he wasn't sure whether or not to believe. She reached out for a tissue and helped him mop the mess up. "J…J….J…Jordan," he stammered, "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop in?"

He gave her disbelieving look. "Springfield isn't exactly on your way home from work."

She sighed. He didn't sound remotely happy to see her. Honesty was always the best policy…or so she had been told. "I needed to see you, Woody. To find out if you were okay."

"I'm fine, Jordan. And you?"

It was as awkward between them now as it had been before he left. Gamely, she kept up the conversation. "I'm doing well, too."

Neither one of them said anything for a minute or two. But the awkwardness wasn't going to win this time…she was here to make sure of it. Getting up from her chair, she walked over to where he was standing and looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she said softly, keeping her gaze steady with his blue eyes. "I'm sorry you felt like you had to leave Boston because of me…I'm sorry that things became so very difficult between us…I just needed to come here today to tell you. It's been a long, hard, three years, but I believe I have finally coped with my – our – daughter's death. I still ache for her, but life goes on.

"But more than that, I've missed you, too. I've missed working with you. Boston lost a hell of a homicide detective. I've missed your mind and your insight. I've missed working on cases together with you. I've missed pizza and beer together after work…I've missed playing pool with you.

"I've missed you, Woody. Plain and simple. I shouldn't have said what I did that night before you left…about you running out on me, too. It wasn't fair. We both were trying to deal with something totally new to us the best way we knew how. I'm sorry for that…I feel like I pushed you away from me and out of Boston. I just needed to come here and tell you that to your face…and to ask you to please come home. Back to Boston. It's okay…and I miss you, Woody. I really do." Then standing on her tip toes and leaning up to him, she softly and quickly kissed his lips.

He didn't respond. He didn't say a word or even try to respond the entire time she was there. She sighed as she turned to walk towards his office door. She had tried. And he did look like he was doing well…..a little thinner, perhaps but doing fine.

"Jordan." His voice stopped her dead in her tracks and spun her around.

"Do you mean that? That you want me to come home?"

She nodded. "Yes," she said in a soft voice. "I do."


	13. Heading East

**Chapter Thirteen**

She had asked. He promised nothing. So when she caught her flight out of Springfield the next morning, she wasn't sure what to expect when she got home. Or if, in fact, to expect anything at all.

She flew back to Boston…and spent the remainder of her vacation in the city…visiting friends, cleaning her apartment, working at the bar. She didn't hear from Woody. They had talked before she left Springfield…about what the last three years had done to both of them…about the miscarriage….about them. "I know you have a life here, now," she told him. "You've got friends, a career, hell, maybe even a girl. I just wanted you to know that…I am sorry…It just all got too much…first I'm pregnant, then I'm not. And I wanted our baby so badly. Then things got so awkward between the two of us. I wanted to reach out to you….be with you again, and there was this _thing_ between us. I've never been in this situation before…I didn't know how to cope. So I did what I do best…I ran from you. Instead of telling you the way I felt, I just shut down.

"Garret gave me some advice a long time ago. He said 'time can help heal your wounds'. I wasn't sure what he meant then, but I do now. It doesn't exactly make them go away, but it does help ease the pain and put them in perspective. And it has for me. Come home, Woody. Back to Boston. Please?"

He had held her hands, told her that he was glad she had found peace, and that he was sorry, too. That he left her like that when she needed him, but the fact was, he didn't know how to cope any better than she did. He just figured if she didn't have to see him everyday, she'd recover faster. He wouldn't be a constant reminder of what had happened to her.

But as far as returning to Boston…he wasn't sure. He'd have to think about it.

* * *

"I swear, this is the last time I'm moving," Woody told David, his partner at the Springfield Police Department. They were moving the boxes out of Woody's apartment into a U-Haul.

"Nah. You're young. You'll probably move at least three or four more times before you settle down for good. Maybe even more," David replied. He was older than Woody and had a family….three girls. "Beth and I moved six times before we finally decided on the house we're in now."

"Moving is a pain in the ass. But if I had your family and your girls, maybe that would be incentive enough to make me do it again."

"I thought that was why you were moving back to Boston...that cute, little ME that visited you from there. What was her name…Joy, Jennifer?"

"Jordan."

"Jordan. That's right. Go home to the girl….get busy…have some kids."

"Things are never that easy with Jordan."

David chuckled. "They weren't that easy with Beth, either. She didn't want me. She wanted a career. Then she didn't want children, she wanted to just be an editor of the newspaper and wouldn't have time for them. See where she's at now?"

"At home, barefoot and pregnant with the fourth."

"Yep."

"How did you manage that?"

David wagged his eyebrows at Woody. "Just some sweet talk and persuasive moves." Then he chuckled. "No, I guess at some point along the way, we discovered the only thing that really mattered was each other. The hell with the rest of the world. And we found out we wanted kids…a family…Of course, she still works….she's lucky enough she can do a lot of the editing at home, on line at her computer. I've seen her edit while breast feeding Caroline. But all that matters is each other. Keep that in mind, Hoyt."

"I will."

The men loaded the last box in the U-Haul, and Woody slammed the doors and locked them. Checking the hitch to make sure it was secure, he stood and shook David's hand. "Thanks, man. For everything."

"It's nothing, Woody. Really. I've enjoyed working with you. You've been a hell of a good partner."

"So have you….maybe we'll work together again."

"Maybe. But until then, take care of yourself. Go home to that hot, little ME and be happy."

"I plan on it…if she'll really take me back."

"Oh, she will. I saw the way she was looking at you when she was here. She wants you bad, Hoyt."

Woody chuckled and looked away; a faint blush tinged his cheeks. "Yeah, well…I better hit the highway before traffic gets too heavy."

David shook his hand one more time. "Be safe."

Woody nodded and got in his Honda Civic. Just as the early morning sun was painting the sky with pinks and golds, he pulled into the early morning rush hour traffic…with his car heading east.

He was going back to Boston. Back to his old precinct. Back to her.

* * *

"Hey, Jordan….You up for one?" Nigel asked, handing her a slip of paper.

"Yeah. Sure. What is it?" she replied, grabbing her bag and jacket and walking with him down the hall towards the elevators.

"Seems like it's the garden variety beating death…body found in an alley on the corner of Commerce and Fourth. The responding detective requested you."

"Must be Lois…she's been doing a lot of that lately."

"I don't know who it was…I didn't take the call, but more than likely it's her….girl power and that sort of thing, love."

Jordan smirked as the elevator doors closed behind her. A few minutes later she was at the scene. After showing her badge, a uniformed officer led her through the yellow police tape to the crime scene. She approximated time of death. Raising her voice, she asked, "Who's the detective in charge here?" to no one in particular, but knowing she'd get a response out of someone.

"I am," a soft voice answered.

Jordan found herself looking up into a pair of very familiar blue eyes. Feeling a pleasant warmth wash over her, she smiled. "Welcome home, Farm Boy."


	14. Time is on Our Side

**Chapter Fourteen**

_Author's Note: I wasn't going to write this chapter….I figured I'd leave Jordan's "Welcome Home, Farm Boy" greeting alone and let the reader's imagination take the rest of the story wherever they wanted it to go. But I got more e-mails telling me that if I did that, people were going to be disappointed. And I hate to disappoint…so here's the ending….and if you're not crazy about it, don't read this chapter. End with chapter thirteen._

_Many, many thanks to the folks that review me. You keep me going. Now please supply me with a few ideas…My muse has taken a vacation (long over due, but I love writing W/J stories…after teaching physics and language arts all day, it frees my mind)._

_Special thanks to JBwriter….you keep me on track (SMILE)._

* * *

"You moved your office," Woody stated as he entered the morgue later to pick up Jordan's preliminary reports on the homicide she was at with him earlier today.

"Yeah," she replied, digging the reports out from under the stack on her desk.

"Why?"

"I found myself staring at too many memories when I saw the couch." Her new office only had room for a couple of chairs.

"Oh." Woody ran his hand down the back of his head, and looking around…so much had changed. Her office. Her. Him. Them.

"Here you go…the reports?" Jordan said, bringing his mind back to the present.

"Uh, thanks…sort of like old times, isn't it?"

Jordan sat on the edge of her desk facing him. "Sort of. Why'd you come home, Woody?"

"You asked me to…"

"Was it just because of that?"

He walked up to her…unsure of just how much Jordan would welcome his closeness….she had said she wanted him to come home, but countered it in terms that indicated she was over the hurt he had caused her…not that she wanted him back to pick up their relationship where they left off.

"No, Jo. It wasn't. I was hoping that…maybe someday…if you want to…we could try to be friends again."

"I am your friend, Woody. Always will be."

He frowned. She wasn't getting it. "I mean…something more than friends," he finished gently. "The whole time I was gone in Springfield, my feelings for you didn't change. I still love you."

Jordan caught her breath. The whole time she had been pregnant…every time they had made love, he hadn't said that to her. "You love _me_?" she questioned, incredulously.

He looked puzzled. "Of course. Didn't you know?"

"You never said it…I just assumed that you were staying with me because of the baby."

"No, Jordan…I love you. I thought I showed that to you."

She got up off the side of her desk and closed the distance between them. "A girl likes to hear it, Farm Boy."

"I love you, Jordan Cavanaugh."

She closed her eyes for a minute, letting the words sweep over her.

"I'd kind of like to know how you feel, too." Woody said, interrupting her thoughts.

Her whiskey brown eyes opened and looked into his blue ones. "I've loved you for a long time, Woody. I've just been too afraid to admit it…scared that you'd leave me…for good. Everyone I've ever loved has left me at one time or another…but that's a risk I'm willing to take with you."

"I'll never leave you again…I'm sorry I left after the miscarriage, but you were so distant…I couldn't break through, and I thought that if I left, you wouldn't be reminded of everything…everyday. You could get on with your life."

"I can't do that without you _in_ my life."

Woody gently put his hands around her waist. "So what do we do now, Jordan?"

"There's no couch in my office now," she teased, lightly tracing his cheek with her finger.

"We could borrow Nigel's office…he has a couch," he teased back.

"Ewww….no. No telling what's happened on that couch."

"Then here's what I suggest," he continued, pulling her closer. "You mentioned time heals all wounds…let's just give ourselves some time…see where we go…and not rush anything. What do you say?"

"I think that's a good idea," she replied somewhat breathlessly, as one of his hands skated up her back to pull her fully against him and his lips sought hers. It was a sweet kiss, completely chaste, but full of promises that only time could fulfill.


End file.
